A Night at the Opera
by MaiaMadness
Summary: This is a series of oneshots based on Queen's album 'A Night at the Opera' from 1975. The stories are completely unrelated some contain slash, some are het, some are merely humourous, and some angst galore! Enjoy!
1. Death On Two Legs

**Author's Notes:**

This is the first in a series of one-shots about a little bit of everything, all based on songs from Queen's album A Night at the Opera, from 1975. I will be writing one story for each song. There will be a little bit of humour, a little bit of romance and a little bit of angst. The shorts are all completely unrelated, and have different ratings and themes. I have placed a general rating of T on this series entirety, but make sure to read the ratings of the idividual stories so you don't get any nasty surprises.

This story is quite straight-forward, really. In a way it is also a sequel to a story I have posted on this site, called Humility, but it is not necessary to read it to understand this story.

**Summary:** "Death on two legs! You never had a heart of your own... Have you found a new toy to replace me? Can you face me? But now you can kiss my ass goodbye." At a Death Eater meeting in 1979, Severus is forced to face Lucius again, after five years of silence.

**Genre:** Angst/Romance/Drama

**Rating:** T

* * *

**_Death on Two Legs_**

It had been five years now, since Severus Snape had last seen Lucius Malfoy. He had been fifteen at the time. It had not been a pleasant parting, and Severus was strangely anxious about meeting him again. But when Lucius looked up from his idle conversation with McNair, and strode across the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor to greet him, Severus put aside all emotion.

"Severus, old friend!" said Lucius slyly as he shook his hand.

"Lucius," replied Severus, stiffly and stone-cold.

"So chilly!" said Lucius. "I know it has been a while, but there's no need to be rude! Did I not teach you not to be rude? Avery!" He turned to the man standing next to Severus. "Is your father well? Is he coming?"

Severus took his chance to slink away into the shadows.

It was little wonder that the Dark Lord had chosen Malfoy Manor to host this gathering of Death Eaters. The manor had enough rooms for all of them to stay over night, and it was rather secluded and away from most Order busy-bodies. There were not many places where such a large gathering could meet anymore. They were at the point where the war was being waged full on, and the Order of the Phoenix was becoming bothersome.

Severus had joined the Death Eaters straight out of Hogwarts, but his assignments had been far away from Lucius Malfoy, at his own request. The Dark Lord granted it, because he knew that Severus was valuable. He had vast knowledge of curses and potions. No other Death Eater had been as diligent a student as Severus Snape. Though he was young, he knew his business better than anyone.

But now he had been summoned here. This was an important meeting. The Dark Lord would not attend it in person, of course – it was too risky – but he had chosen a few people to speak for him and give out orders on his behalf. Severus was one of them.

The main meeting was not until the next day, however. Severus spied across the hall, seeing all the guests that had arrived early. There was Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius' sister-in-law, and her husband Rodolphus, chatting to Narcissa. Bellatrix' sister. Lucius' wife. Severus felt a pang of half-anger, half-sadness. The same feeling returned when he saw Lucius' hand stroke the small of Avery's back ever so slightly as he spoke to him. He should have known…

Severus left the hall and went off to the great Malfoy library. It had been long since he was last here, true, but he still remembered the way to that library, which he had first visited at the age of thirteen, and then again at fifteen. He had spent so many hours there, reading the books it held on dark magic, studying every bit of it. And Lucius had helped him to understand, taught him. He had mostly taught him things he already knew, but Severus had enjoyed Lucius' company back then.

He stayed in the library all evening, and he hardly noticed the time passing as he found all the books he had used to read before.

"So this is where you are, Severus." The silky voice by his ear held out the S at the end of the name like a snake's hiss. Severus stiffened. He had not even noticed somebody enter the library, but he knew that deadly, silky voice well enough.

"Yes, this is where I am, Lucius," he said, closing his book.

Lucius did not answer. Instead his tongue flicked out of his mouth and lightly brushed Severus' earlobe. Severus jerked his head away.

"Don't you have a new toy now?" he sneered, refusing to look Lucius in the eye.

"Now, now, Severus," replied the other, sitting down on the table and grabbing hold of Severus' chin to turn his face towards him, "did I not teach you humility?"

"You did," said Severus, meeting his gaze. "It is a lesson I never forgot."

"Really?" said Lucius mildly, studying his strong features carefully. "Because you sound like you might need me to refresh your memory." He let go of his chin and stood up. "You have never ceased to surprise me, Severus."

Severus said nothing, but got out of his chair and began taking the books back to their shelves. Lucius followed him with his eyes.

"I always get what I want, Severus," said Lucius, his grey eyes gleaming. "You know that."

"Oh yes," drawled Severus. "Like a spoiled little boy, you either whinge your way to it or take it by force."

"The cheek!" exclaimed Lucius in mock-offence. "But I can forgive you anything, Severus," he said, and approached him again, embracing him from behind. "You are right when you say I have a new toy. But you were my first toy. The first thing I defiled."

It was no declaration of love. It was not even remotely romantic or poetic. But somehow it stirred something. However, Severus quickly shook it off, shuddering ever so slightly.

"No," he said. "You have replaced me, and most likely you've done so several times over. You say those things, that you defiled me, played with me, as if it were a virtue. Is that satisfaction to you?"

"Defiling innocent things, Severus," said Lucius, reaching up with his right hand to stroke his cheek lightly, tilting his head towards him as he did so, "is the greatest pleasure and satisfaction there is." He kissed him softly. "And I know you liked it too," he whispered.

Severus shuddered again, but broke free of the embrace, turning his face away. "I don't want it. I never did. I could have wanted you, but not in the way you took me. First with your luring, kind words, and then with force. I never wanted that." He looked up at Lucius again. "But I thank you for that lesson. I have needed that humility. I have no innocence anymore. This world has no room for innocence."

He went back to the table where he had been sitting and collected the cloak he had carelessly left on the chair. "Good night, Lucius," he said firmly. "We will never speak of this again."

* * *

The meeting the next day went as planned. When he and Lucius spoke after, it was short and courteous. A formal hand-shake. A cold, un feeling smile. Their eyes did not ever really meet. But that was the way Severus wanted it to be. This was simpler. 

He wondered sometimes, after that, whether Lucius ever thought of it again. Whether he felt guilty. Whether it ever plagued his mind. But there was always a wall of cold, which he could never break through. And if he had once loved Lucius Malfoy, he knew that the other had no heart and never loved him back.


	2. Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

**Author's Note:** Who in the world could be more likely to be Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon than our dear Cornelius Fudge? Poor Fudge. It's not really his fault, if you think about it. He's spineless. He's a coward. He never managed to do anything right. But at least he tried, in the end, and admitted his mistake when it was all over. This is a short, funny-ish thought-monolog piece. Enjoy.

MaiaMadness

**Summary:** "I go off to work on Monday morning. Tuesday I go off to Honeymoon. I'll be back again before it's time for sunny-down. I'll be lazing on a Sunday afternoon." The thoughts of Cornelius Fudge right before he goes to see the Muggle Prime Minister, grumbling about what a good life he had.

**Genre:** Humour/monologue

**Rating:** K+ (to be on the safe side; mild swearing and death in there)

* * *

_**Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon**_

Bloody brilliant, isn't it? Life, I mean. Everything around us. Really great. I love it. My life used to be pretty good. There used to be a meaning to it all. There used to be some point to it. I'd go to work every day, in my smart suit and bowler hat. I do love my bowler hat. There I would sit, in my office, with my assistant and secretary just outside the doors. I'd give orders and tell people what to do. And once in a while I would go on official business to another country to meet with another minister somewhere.

A rather nice existence, wouldn't you say? Every Wednesday, I'd go for a little broom ride above town. In secret, of course. Merlin, if anyone had seen the Minister for Magic go on a broom ride just for fun… Let's just say I had the strictest of protection around me. On Friday evenings I used to paint, in the privacy of my own home. A hobby, you know?

Wonderful. Wonderful existence. But then Harry Potter had to come along and be right. What did he have to be so right for? I was Minister for Magic! The best position in the world! I ruled everything! I could not turn tail and run when Potter first came with his ridiculous story. I had to stay strong, and most of all, I had to make sure people didn't panic. What would I do if everyone suddenly started to panic? The whole wizarding world would be chaos, and chaos is not allowed. Not in MY world, in any case…

Bloody Potter who had to be right! Bloody Dumbledore, who realised he was right first! Bloody kids who had to all be right when they trusted Potter! And bloody… bloody V… V… You-Know-Who, for even existing!

It's been total chaos since the news were proven, as it were. After that whole thing in the Department of Secrets, it could no longer be denied. I still don't understand what those kids were doing there in the first place, but it was probably important. I won't even pretend to understand anymore.

And now I've been sent off to that Prime Minister, to tell him all about it and introduce Scrimgeour. Who it had to be him… In any normal times more time would have been spent finding a suitable replacement, but I suppose Scrimgeour was the only one who wanted the job. Not that I blame anyone. Who would want to be Minister for Magic in these dark and perilous times anyway? Well, except for Scrimgeour, obviously.

Oh, why did this have to happen! Everything was going to smoothly. The pretty little witch in the reception area had even started returning my flirts lately! But of course she won't want me now.

I can't believe it's Sunday today. Sunday! My lazy day! I do nothing on Sundays! I assume that will stay the same… now that I'm more or less unemployed. I wonder if they'll get me a new job at the Ministry. In some minor department, perhaps. Maybe they'll make Arthur Weasly my boss. That would be depressing.

Maybe they'll keep me on as an assistant to the Minister. No, never mind, that's Percy Weasly's job. He won't lose his just because I lost mine. He's a hard-working boy. Shouldn't have to suffer because of me.

Ah, things never turn out like they should, do they? Like the Dementors. I was so certain they were loyal, but look at this country now. Mist everywhere. It's the middle of summer, and there's cold mist everywhere. I've been told those bloody things are breeding. How horrible… No wonder everyone's more downcast than ever. And that's just yet another thing Dumbledore was right about. I suppose I should just accept defeat; Dumbledore is a greater wizard than I can ever even dream to be.

And all those people who have died… and I'm sure that poor Muggle Prime Minister thinks everything has a natural explanation. I mean, it does to us, but not to him. To him, natural is, "the bridge broke and several people died." To us it's, "the Death Eaters destroyed the bridge, damaging a dozen muggle vehicles and killing several people."

I guess I don't really envy Scrimgeour or the Prime Minister. I'm rather glad it's not me having to deal with all this anymore. Of course, after the way I behaved nobody wants me to anymore. Everyone wanted me gone. Not a single person supported me anymore. Just as well. I am a failure, after all.

Ah, it's my turn now. I'm going into the fire. Poor Prime Minister, he will be shocked when I tell him what's happened… But I suppose there's not much else I can do. And it's Sunday today too…

Well, through the fire I go!

"Ah… Prime Minister!"


	3. I'm In Love With My Car

**Author's Note:**

This is the third short in my Night at the Opera series, and also my first attempt at writing humour. Hope you'll like it!

MaiaMadness

**Summary:** "I'm holding your wheel! All I hear is your gear! I'm cruising in overdrive. Don't have to listen to no one in the middle talk jive. I'm in love with my car. Got a feel for my Automobile…" The muggle car was beautiful and bright turquoise. It wasn't big or suave. It was not one of those fancy, big American cars. It was simply a cute little Ford Anglia. But Arthur Weasley loved it!

**Genre:** Humour

**Rating:** K

**Pairing: **Arthur Weasley/Ford Anglia

* * *

**_I'm in Love With My Car_**

"Arthur! Arthur, it's been half an hour since I told you dinner was ready!"

Arthur Weasley sighed as he slid out from underneath the car, oily and covered in grease. His wife stood framed in the doorway, looking annoyed.

"Why are you always playing with that thing? You'd think it would have stopped being interesting by now," she said.

"But, Mollywobbles, I'm taking it apart to see what it looks like on the inside! It's fascinating, really! This is called a carburettor!" He held up a contraption of steel. "It says right there in that book," he pointed at a large book lying open on a stool behind him, "but I have no idea what it does yet. I don't really understand that muggle technical speak…"

Molly gave an exasperated sigh, but smiled bemusedly all the same. "_Scourgify_!" she said, pointing her wand at him. The oil and grease disappeared.

In the kitchen of the Burrow, little Bill, Charlie and Percy were waiting patiently for their father to come in to dinner. When the door opened, Charlie leaped out of his chair and ran to hug his father. Arthur laughed.

"Sit down, son!" he said. "Let your mother serve the food." He gave Molly's swelling belly a little caress and then sat down in his chair.

"How's the car going, daddy?" asked a seven-year-old Bill eagerly. "Have you got it to work yet?"

Molly set a pot heavily down on the table and looked sternly at her husband. "Arthur!" she said, scowling. "You said you were just –"

"I'm not going to use the car, no!" said Arthur quickly. "No, no, Bill, you've misunderstood. I'm just going to find out how it works!"

"Oh," said Bill, looking slightly disappointed. Molly, however, looked far happier. When she served the stew she was humming cheerfully.

That evening, when the boys were asleep, and Molly had gone to bed, Arthur snuck out into the garden shed. He stroked the hood of the car fondly. She was a beauty. She was not big or shiny or suave. It was no fancy American car. It was simply small and turquoise. But he loved it very much, his little Ford Anglia. It had been a bargain. He had bought it off a scrap heap, for a sum which equalled no more than two Galleons. Nothing at all. And she was so pretty.

He opened the door and sat down inside. It was a good thing that Molly did not know of his plans for the car. He was not going to use it, of course. He had written the law which enabled him to do what he was planning to do. The law that said that bewitching a Muggle artefact was alright so long as you did not plan to use it. But it would not hurt to use it just once…

He had installed the switches inside that would control his changes. There must be switches, as Arthur was very fond of those. He was more or less done. The only thing left was the actual spells. He had brewed a potion to substitute Muggle petrol, with some minor differences, and poured it into the gas tank earlier that day.

He raised his wand and said the words.

Then he turned the key.

The car made a nice purring sound as he turned it on. He had read all about Muggle driving, so he stepped on the gas and promptly ran the car into the wall behind him. He shut down the car for a moment, afraid that Molly had heard the noise. But he could hear no shouts of angry footsteps, so he turned the key again and drove forward this time, out of the big door in the shed. He pressed the button labelled "fly".

The car lifted off the ground as he accelerated, and with a strange churn in his belly, Arthur felt himself lift, and then he was flying!

He pressed the switch labelled "Invisible" and the car disappeared around him. Now he was flying high above the Burrow. Up above Ottery St. Catchpole he flew, above the rooftops, all the way over Stoatshead Hill. The view was beautiful. He heard the sound of the engine, felt the wheel in his hands. He had never felt so alive before. He accelerated again, and drove the car straight upwards in a spiral. He popped through a cloud, and suddenly he could see nothing but white below him. It was like a Winter Wonderland, and when he looked up, he saw a million stars and a bright, blue moon.

He sighed contently and leaned back in his seat, having taken his hands off the wheel. He listened to the engine and watched the stars, feeling that life could hardly get better.

He landed the car some way away from the house, turning off the invisibility, and drove it back to the Burrow. He rolled it into the shed and pulled out the key. When he stepped out, a light shone in his face. He looked up.

There stood Molly, looking stern. The light came from her wand.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her lips so thin they were almost non-existent. Arthur gave a nervous cough.

"I just went for a little ride," he mumbled.

"Whatever happened to not using the car?" Molly exploded. "I wake up in the middle of the night, you're not there, the car isn't here… What am I to think?"

"But Molly –"

"Don't you 'but Molly' me! You could have gotten hurt! This Muggle machine could have crashed! You could have died! What would I have done with three children and another on the way? How would we survive?"

"But Mollywobbles, it went fine!" said Arthur. "I just drove it for a bit. It can be a good thing if we need to go somewhere with the boys when they're too young for Floo powder. Percy is far too little for that still, and now with another baby…"

Molly fell silent. She looked extremely thoughtful.

"Alright," she said in the end. "Alright, we can keep the contraption. Now come to bed at once!" She marched out of the shed. Arthur closed the car door and petted it fondly. When he was certain that Molly could not see him, he placed a small kiss on the hood.

"Good night, Ford Anglia," he whispered. Then he went back in the house.


End file.
